


Off the Clock

by AlyKat



Category: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Coulson Needs A Hug, M/M, Mentions of Clint Barton, Mentions of Jasper Sitwell, Mentions of Maria Hill, Mentions of Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Mentions of Tony Stark, Not sure if it can really be considered Clint Barton/Phil Coulson or not..., Pining, Self-Comfort, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:55:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil returns home from a long day at HQ, having had to deal with a cranky eccentric engineer, an annoyed Deputy Director, and being worried over the well being of his beloved team.</p><p>A look into a typical night at home for the most respected and revered agent S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had...who really could just use a hug some nights...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off the Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Coulson, I just roleplay him. I also don't own any of the Avengers. Just playin' in Marvel's sandbox again.
> 
> A/N: So, I get into these funks sometimes...these lonesome little funks where all I want is someone to hug and snuggle with. Last night was one of those nights and this story was the product of that little funk. *Author most certainly does not admit to many times doing the same as Coulson in this story. Nope...not at all.*

The apartment was dark when he got home, not that he expected it to be anything but—it was nearly 2 in the morning after all. His keys clanked into the bowl next to the door and a moment later his shoes landed with soft thuds against the side of his couch.

“It’s late…I know. I’m sorry.” He said softly, moving for the kitchen. The lights under the cupboards flickered before humming to life. Their florescent white light filled the small open room with a soft glow as he moved for the fridge.

“You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I had to put up with today.” A chuckle escaped his lips when he pulled out a carton of Chinese food out and set it down on the counter. He should reheat it, but that was too much work at the moment. Instead, he grabbed a fork from the drawer and stabbed into the cold green beans and chicken breast.

“Stark was on another one of his tangents and was driving people just completely up a wall. Some cases literally up the wall. Hill was on my ass because I’ve still got reports that are months late being turned in. Pft…excuse me for having other duties outside of being a paper pusher.” Without another word, he pushed himself away from the counter and started off towards the couch, where the TV was flashing some action movie ( _Lethal Weapon 3_ he thought).

Flopping down onto the sofa, he pulled his knees up against him and rested his head back, grey eyes staring at the screen. Fingers carded through his hair gently and he allowed a soft smile to form on his lips, a content sigh to huff from his body while he continued to pick at the leftovers.

“Natasha’s gonna be back soon. Jasper said she did just fine and isn’t any worse for wear.” He took a breath and leaned over to set the take out container on the coffee table before curling back up on the couch and snuggling in. The fingers that had been playing with his hair now moved down to brush soothingly over his left hand, whispering over his own fingers with their gentle, calloused touch. “It’s gonna be nice to have her back. I know it’s pointless but, I worry about her when she gets sent out on missions by herself. Worry ‘bout everyone.”

He sat and watched as the movie came to an end. The fingers on his hand stopped moving and casting a glance down he felt his stomach and heart both drop. It was hard to keep fingers moving on your hand when it was your own hand doing the touching and was instead moving to grab the remote and turn the TV off. His own fingers that had been playing with the hair on the back of his head so comfortingly.

Shoving himself off the couch, he resolutely ignored the fact his apartment was dark and empty, save for himself; just as it had been for as long as he could remember. There was no one there to give him the soft, gentle touches he so craved at night—his mind instead allowed itself to tune out and pretend for a little while that someone was there with him, someone whose face smiled out at him from a picture taken years ago on one of their few missions to somewhere tropical. Someone with hauntingly beautiful blue-green eyes and so soft to the touch blond/brown/red hair.

With a heavy sigh, he slipped into his darkened room, murmuring softly to the darkened void as he went.

“G’nite, Clint…”


End file.
